


Tolling of the Bells

by Ars_Matron



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Alpha Slade Wilson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Intersex Omegas, M/M, Omega Dick Grayson, implied - Freeform, multiple character death, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:04:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27250120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ars_Matron/pseuds/Ars_Matron
Summary: On the first day the drums began, and Dick had followed his father, brothers, and sisters into the council room, and listened to the reports of an army marching to their doors.On the third day Bruce and his siblings marched to war.On the fifth day Dick hid the other omegas and his baby brother in the last safe place in the city.On the sixth day, the drums stopped.____________Slade/Robin weekDay 2, After the brd guys win
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 31
Kudos: 154
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> It's been almost a year since i've posted, well...anything. which is fitting in a way since this is actually an idea I had for last year's Sladin week and just didn't get a chance to work on. 
> 
> Every bad thing takes place off screen but it's still dealing with mature content so I wanted to keep the rating. 
> 
> This was very quickly written in two hours this morning so appologies if it's terribly edited. But I'm super happy to finally have this finished and off my mind. 
> 
> I can't promise a second part, but I can promise to consider it if enough people want more. 
> 
> So, without further ado, I hope you enjoy!!

It was the drums that woke him. A deep, distant thrum that sat just on the edge of notice, a constant pressure to the ear. There must have been quite a few of them to be so presistant from such a distance. 

That first day Dick had followed his father, brothers, and sisters into the council room, and listened to the reports. An army marching to their doors carrying banners with a skull, emblazoned S on its forehead, upon a field of a black bisected with orange. no one needed to ask who, but...

"Why is Deathstroke marching at us as though he wants a war?" It was Damian who finally asked the question everyone else wanted to know. It was with little surprise that Bruce simply turned from the question to stare out the tower window and onto the city around them. All Dick and the rest could do when sharp eyes turned to them for answers was shrug. They had never been on good terms with the Terminator...no one was, as far as Dick knew. But they were nowhere near a point of going to war with him and his empire. 

The drums grew louder on the second day, and preparations for meeting Wilson on the battlefield began. Dick wished he were going with them as Tim, Cass, and Stephanie prepared. Instead he would lead the flow of the troops from there, a master playing chess, his family the pieces. He found comfort in knowing that Damian would stay behind, safe with him and the other omegas. Alpha he may be, he was only seven and too young to go to war despite his tantrum. 

A silent, sad part of his soul was glad that Jason wasn't there for this. He had just presented when he was taken from them, and if the worst came to worst he was glad that Jason wouldn't suffer with Dick and the other omegas of the city. 

On the third day they marched. Bruce in the lead with his armor gleaming gold for the king, Tim in silver as the heir, and burnished and gilded pieces on the girls to catch the light and show their royal claims. Dick watched from the war room tower, Damian close to his side, gripping a handful of Dick's skrits where no one could see. 

The fourth day was a blur. People raced in and out of the war room, giving reports and sending Dick's orders back. There wasn't time to rest, or eat. Damian hadn't left his sight since their father's departure. Everything was noise and light and the faint scent of blood on the breeze. 

That night the fires began as the drums swelled. 

Dick clutched Damian to his side as they stood above the city and watched as smoke and swirling cinders filled the sky. 

No messengers returned to them on the fifth day, they had no news of the battle besides the steady beat of war and battle cries. 

It was on the fifth night that Dick led everyone who was left, omegas, children, and the infirm, into the Nest, a secured omegan sanctuary in the centre of the palace, and sealed the heavy steel doors from within. 

The drums were fainter in there. The walls were thick to keep scent in, the heavy glass dome shut up tight to keep out the smoke. The sky above their heads was close and blazing orange. but inside the fountains and fruit trees kept the air fresh. 

They sat in the courtyard and waited. Silent and weary. Damain clung to Dick, a reassuring weight in his arms, his face pressed to Dick's neck for comfort. Dick hoped he was asleep finally, though it would be surprising if he were. 

Sometime in the afternoon on the sixth day the drums stopped. 

It was almost a full day later when they began attacking the steel door with the force of a ram. 

Dick had instructed the others to flee to the apartments. There were no locks on the doors within the Nest, and blocking the doors could lead to the alphas’ anger if their conquerors were to enact a full blown raid. That did not mean they needed to make it easier for them and stand out in the open. Only Dick stayed in the courtyard, regal in a dress of a pale blue silk and his circlet of black gold, and neck and wrists exposed in a clear sign of surrender. 

The hardest part had been convincing Damian that to be greeted with an alpha, even an alpha pup, would be seen as a challenge. He had agreed to stay behind and guard the others, though Dick assumed he was being watched from the shadows. 

He only hoped that whatever happened, Damian would remain hidden until it was safe. 

There was a final, deafening crack, more of broken stone than caved in door, and for a time everything seemed unnaturally still and far too silent. 

Heavy boots crunched through the broken bits of stone and steel, and a single set of footfalls echoed in the hall. 

Dick squared his shoulders, grateful now for the tight corset around his middle, they had needed to tighten it an extra inch, he had been far too anxious to even think of eating these last few days, and now the added pressure helped him keep his back straight and standing proud when all he wanted was to fall to the floor in grief. 

Bruce would have come as soon as the fighting had stopped. Bruce would have known the right pattern to knock on the door to get Dick to open. Bruce wouldn't have taken a ram to the Nest. 

He was prepared, yet somehow still dismayed, when a man much larger than Bruce walked into the courtyard. The sky was still blanketed by smoke, casting them in an eerie orange glow. The man's armor still gleamed though, as though freshly cleaned or brand new, black metal and orange enamel, a skull etched over his heart. Dick had never seen Slade Wilson in person, but he knew enough from description to recognize him. Larger than any other alpha, white hair and beard, and single, piercing blue eye, the other covered with a simple black leather patch. 

He smiled, sharp and savage as he took in Dick, standing alone yet proud before the gentle fountains, surrounded by lush fruit trees and flowering vines. What hell the man must have just come from, only to step into Eden itself. 

"Princess," Slade said, a hint of amusement in his voice, he walked right up to Dick, not being subtle as he openly looked him up and down appreciatively. 

Dick hesitated for a moment, unsure. What would he want to be called? King Wilson? Emperor? Finally he settled on, "Alpha Wison," and hoped it would suffice. It was still respectful, even though it might be seen as a disregard of station. 

But Slade only smiled broader. He didn't say anything else, instead he moved to circle around Dick, predator surrounding its captured prey, gaze so intent Dick could feel it on his skin. 

"My father?" Dick asked when Slade had made his circuit and stood before him once more.

"King Bruce fell yesterday, just after dawn. He and his children refused to surrender and died valantly at the end of my sword." He said it as someone might say that they had eaten pigeon pie for lunch, or that they thought it might rain again. As though it were commonplace and inevitable. 

Dick couldn't bring himself to react, if he said anything he might lose control, he did not want to show weakness before this man, he would not disgrace his family by being so weak in front of their killer. Yet when a cool gloved hand took his chin, surprisingly gentle, to tilt his head up, it was through a thin blur of unshed tears that he beheld Slade once more. Still smiling, power radiating off of him in smokey waves. 

"Such a brave little thing," he said softly, as though to himself. 

Dick swallowed, trying to find his voice, finally he managed a single, choked off, "why?"

That, at last, brought something besides a smug grin to Slade's face. His white brows lowered in confusion before a grimace, more growl than smile, twisted his face. "I was wondering if he had told you. It seems your father was stupider than I thought," before Dick had a chance to stand up for Bruce, Slade was grinning, all teeth, once again. "Well, his mistake is good news for you, little princess." Slade dropped his hand and backed up a few steps, gaze still heavy on Dick though more appraising. "I'll give you the same terms I gave him, and it will be your choice now, as it should have been before."

Dick blinked up at him in confusion, nothing felt real. There were terms? Bruce hadn't said, he wouldn’t say, actually, why Deathstroke had attacked...

Slade sighed, he clasped his hands behind his back and began another lazy stroll around Dick as he spoke, "you may have heard, that all of my children are either dead or have deserted the family. And yet, my Empire is growing. I need an heir, Richard, and not just any omega is going to be able to stand next to me." Slade said, fangs flashing, "I've been searching for the right omega for years, someone smart in the ways of tactics and court. Someone brave and fierce, yet gentle when the time is needed." He stopped in front of Dick again and once more cupped his face in a giant hand. 

"Me?" Dick asked unsteadily, "you asked Bruce...for me..."

"And he refused," Slade said smoothly, "even though it was you or war. He didn't tell you, did he?"

Dick shook his head as much as he could within Slade's grasp, the hold did not loosen any, Slade leaned in, nearly pressing their foreheads together. "So I give you the same terms, little bird. I will expect you and everyone in this little..."

"Nest," Dick filled in, instantly and without thinking. It was so very hard to keep his thoughts in line, between the horror of his family, the sinking reality of what was to come, and Slade’s scent filling his senses. 

Slade laughed, low and gravelly, "how fitting. You, and everyone in this Nest will submit yourselves to me in the throne room within the hour, at which time you will agree to be my mate. Or," Slade grip grew tight, forcing a pained whimper from Dick, "I send my men in and have them drag you there. Oh, and if you obey like a good omega, I will let you keep Wayne's pup," his single eye grew sharper, "do not think I don't know he's hidden here with you. Understood?"

Dick's throat was impossibly dry, his small, "yes, alpha," was barely audible. 

Even when Slade had disappeared back through the broken door Dick couldn't find his breath, couldn’t quell the shaking of his limbs and his blurring vision. They were dead, they were all dead, and all because Bruce didn’t want Dick to sacrifice himself for their safety. 

And it didn't even matter. Because they were gone, and Dick would be mated to a tyrant either way...only now… 

Only now, he had to do it alone, with a small pup and the whole of his city to protect. 

Dick collapsed back onto the rim of the fountain, burying his face in his hands. There was very little time before he would need to march up to the throne room and hand himself over. He had to tell Damian that...that their family was gone. He would have to lead all the city's omegas to what was most likely going to be their own doom of foreign invading alphas. He was going to have to be brave, and stronge. 

But for a time, for right that moment, Dick allowed the truth of the situation to wash over him. 

He allowed himself just a moment of weakness and wept.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to brush off the ash, and see what rests beneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp...this is a thing now...I hope you enjoy!!!

It was so very hard, rising from the fountain's edge. If not for the stirring of gentle voices drifting from the living quarters he might have remained. Just until he could breathe once more. Just until the pain had faded.

Too long, a distant and frantic part of him said. It would have been too long and then something worse than the pain of having to pick himself up and carry on would be coming for him. 

It was with numb limbs and a heavy heart that Dick made his way to the others and told them of their fate. His words were met with despair, shock, and grief. Though at least one occupant skipped over hopelessness and pain and right to anger. 

He was always more comfortable there. 

"No." 

"Damian-" Dick tried to sound firm, though his voice still felt too far away. 

"I said no, Richard. You aren't, you can't mate him. We can't give up!" He stood as tall and proud as any seven year old could, his head just barely came to Dick's waist, yet he already held himself as though he had his father's height. 

Dick shook his head, "No, we can't. Not now, not yet, at least," Dick knelt before him, grasping at Damian's shoulders, part desperation, part reassurance to them both, "when it is safe I'll send word to your grandfather, he'll send someone for you. It'll be safer for you there, but until then you have to behave. You cannot make him angry, do you understand me?"

The struggle that Damian went through played out in his bright eyes, he was far too good at hiding his emotions to show it elsewhere. Yet just when Dick was ready to keep fighting his point, make Damian understand how unsteady their fates were, everything came tumbling down. Damian threw himself into Dick, small arms wrapping around his neck just as his face crumbled and his lip trembled in the first show of tears. 

"Don't send me away, please, please, don't. I'll be good, I promise, just don't send me away!" 

Dick clutched him close, "You have to do as he says, be good, no matter what." Even as he said it though he knew that he'd still write out the letter, send it out if he could find someone he trusts to deliver it. There was no way that Ra's wouldn’t hear of this, but if Dick reached out first, asked for help for Damian...maybe they could find a way to sneak him past Slade's notice. 

Damian was a child, but he was still Bruce's heir. There were going to be some who would sit in wait for him to be old enough to take the throne. Whether he behaved or not, if Slade smelled even a whiff of a threat, Damian would be gone.

Dick pulled him back, running a hand up and down his arms, he was in black surcoat, bright gold piping and stylized bats raced up and down the velvet sleeves and over his heart. 

"We have to get you changed," he said distractedly, they needed to put him in something less threatening. Blue, maybe, so that he would match Dick and look more like his than Bruce’s. Dick wasn't his mother, but they were close enough that that fact was mostly overlooked by people when Dick acted the part. "All of you as well, dress as you would to go before the King."

Dick combed out his hair, letting it rest in waves over his shoulders, donned a cloak of deep blue velvet, with no jewelry other than the circlet, his unmarked neck and wrists exposed, he marched out and into the wreckage just before the turn of the hour. Leading his people from the safety of the Nest, and into a den of fire and vipers. 

Blood and smoke filled the air with their heavy, acrid scents. It scorched his throat and burned his eyes, but he did not falter as he traversed the winding halls. The sky had only grown darker in the time since his summons, torches had been lit through the black stone halls, casting shadows over grim faces he either couldn't recognize or didn't know. The halls were far more crowded than he had ever seen them before, but the mass of dirty, bloody soldiers and stricken staff alike parted before him, most bowing as he passed. Dick stared forward, head held high, shoulders and back straight, trying to exude the regality he did not feel. As though his hands did not want to shake. 

As though he did not hurt with every sharp and hollow beat of his heart. 

The setting sun was blood red through the thick smoke, casting the throne room in a hellish glow from the room high arched windows. Creating a celestial scape of flickering torch stars in a sea of black stone and armored soliders, with Slade the red sun at its centre. 

He lounged on Bruce's blackgilded throne, A giant stylized bat stretched out, a grim halo behind his stark white hair. The smile he gave Dick was triumphant, the cat who caught the mouse. 

Total silence fell as the path between Dick and the throne cleared. Fewer bowed here and those that did were not as low. These were Slade's men, their conquerors. 

And Dick swept by them as though they were nothing. 

When he was an appropriate distance from the throne Dick fell into a low, graceful curtsy, face a mere inch from the polished floor. The whisper of silk behind him was the only sign that the others, omegas all, had done the same, while to his left and back just a step, Damian knelt with a hand over his heart. Dick wouldn't let him bring his knife or sword. 

For several long minutes there was nothing. No sounds, no movement, no command to rise. Dick didn't move an inch, but he could surmise what Slade was doing, looking over the group that Dick had brought forth. Not everyone. He had left the sick and elderly, those who could not move without aid. Slade didn't care about them, there was no need for him to even pretend. Dick had brought what he wanted, the actual treasure of Gotham. 

Young omegas of a mating age. 

"Princess Richard," Slade's voice was a deep rumble through the still room, Dick rose just enough to lift his face towards the throne, but didn't rise. Waiting. "You were the general during these last few days, the strength of Gotham."

There was no question in his words, so Dick said nothing, simply fixed him with what he hoped was a proud, and undefeated stare. 

Slade only smiled more, "the tales of your beauty and fire do not do you justice, my dear," in a lower tone, a hint of command laced in, he said, "I have given you my terms, what is your answer?" 

There was no choice, he only said the words because Dick had followed Slade's orders and come on his own. There was no real question as to what he would do next. 

Stretching out his arms, wrists up, Dick bowed forward once more. Traditionally he would have been standing and kneeling would have sufficed as an act of submission. 

"Gotham is yours," he spoke as clearly as his position would allow, his breath fogging stone before him, his voice far too loud to his own ears, "we are yours."

The last sentiment was echoed behind him by all but Damian.

"And you, princess?" Slade asked slyly, "are you ready to be my omega, stand by my side, be a leader and nurturer to my people? Are you ready to be my queen?"

Dick swallowed dryly, there was relief in that his hands did not shake or his voice waver. He might be walking the knife's edge, but he would do so in a way that would have made his father proud. 

"Yes, alpha," he said, clear and final, "I am yours...completely."

"Then rise, my dove, and take your place at my side."

Dick rose, just as graceful as he had knelt, finally taking in the room that was in so many ways the heart of his family, and all the changes that had already taken place therein. 

Bruce had kept smaller chairs around and behind the throne for any of his children to use. Those who would sit through court for the day, or anyone who simply wanted to be near him. They had all learned politics and warfare by his side, watching just over his shoulder as he ran his country and served his people. 

Those chairs were gone now. The only thing on the dias besides the Throne was a large pillow on the floor. A giant orange monstrosity with black filigree and tassels. It hadn't come from Gotham, that was for sure. Which meant that Slade had carried it with him to war, all with the intent of this moment, when he swept a massive, steel clad hand down at it. Beckoning Dick forward. 

He wanted to bristle. To argue that this was not serving at Slades side, but at his feet! Omegas of old might have rested on cushions at their alphas feet, but that was not how Bruce ran things. But...

But Bruce wasn't there. And Dick did not have the power here. Slade was very capable of forcing him to do as he asked, either with a sharp command, or by physical force. 

Dick walked with unhurried, unbothered steps up the dias and settled onto the pillow as though it were the most common thing in the world. Just another chair, been sitting on them his whole life. So what if this one was short and soft, it didn't bother him. 

Almost, just almost, it helped him not feel utterly embarrassed. A gentle brush against his cheek had him turning, Slade looking at him with a very fond smile, and a low, “good omega,” before turning back to the court.

"What a lovely collection, King Bruce had more treasures than he let on." Slade said, taking in all the gathered omegas. There were several that were part of the court, but the truth was that any omega in Gotham had access to the Nest if they wanted it, all one needed to do was present themselves at the gate and ask for sanctuary. There had been enough dresses and jewelry in the Nest that they had been able to pass everyone off as at least wealthy if not nobles. Omegas of higher breeding were typically treated better after battles than their common counterparts.

Not always, but enough that it was worth the added effort to outfit everyone well. 

Slade motioned them up and toward the gallery where all the ladies in waiting usually stood when in attendance. Then, he called forth Damian.

Dick held his breath as Damian stepped forward, he kept shooting heated, narrowed eyed glares at the pillow Dick sat on, his little hands clenched so tight his knuckles were white. 

"Am I going to have trouble out of you, pup?" Slade's voice was light, almost amused. Damian was too small to be trouble...he couldn't challenge Slade yet, he held no personal loyalties other than Dick’s and he was too young to claim any land or titles to himself. But he was a Wayne, he was foolhardy, and too brave for his own good. 

Dick had never felt more relief in his life than when Damian knelt once more and spoke two simple, but hard felt words. 

"No, alpha."

Slade smirked, "then you may stay with my mate. I know he is like a mother to you, and it is beyond cruel to separate a mother and their pup."

And, of course, he wanted to keep an eye on him. Snuff out any rebellion before it started. Probably use them to keep the other in line. He said the pretty words for the crowd. Not his men perhaps, but for those of Gotham he wanted to follow him. To see him as a fair and noble ruler. It was the same reason he had wanted Dick to present himself willingly. The show of strength and dominance that would have played out if Dick had fought would have solidified him as a prime alpha to all the traditionalists. But having Dick surrender gave him a stronger claim to the land and not just Dick's body. 

It also made it seem that Dick had noted his prowess and deemed him the strongest and most desirable choice in a mate. 

For Damian's safety Dick would play along. He would play any game he had to. 

He would have done the same for the other's as well...if Bruce had given him that chance. 

With a hurried, "thank you, alpha," Damian raced up the dias to stand as close as the thick cushion allowed him to. It took every bit of control Dick had to not pull him down into his arms, but they both needed to appear stronger than they felt in that moment. 

Slade hadn't marked him before the court, he wasn't giving into base instincts that must be raging. To claim and mark, and control a new territory. Wipe away any trance of the defeated alpha he could find. 

Instead he was a steady, dominating presence as he called forth all of Bruce's retainers and the citizens that were left and gave them a chance to swear fealty to him, or face the sword. 

More than a few looked towards Dick before kneeling, but if anything this only pleased Slade more. The stench of smoke was still too thick, masking much of Slade's scent. 

But Dick could feel it. Heavy and warm around him. Covering every last vestige of Bruce's own, like fresh rain and autumn leaves. 

He tried to not think of that. How soon any traces of Bruce and his sibling's scents would be gone. He needed to stay brave, focus on Damian, on their survival. He clutched handfuls of soft blue silk, buried in his lap so no one would see, as one by one men and women who relied on him stepped forward to swear loyalty to their conqueror. 

He floated somewhere just beyond reality as the crowds parted, undulating as citizens swelled in and out of the room. Until a familiar voice cut through the din, leaving him dizzy in its wake. 

"My name is Alfred Pennyworth, your majesty. I have served the Waynes my entire life and I ask only to be able to continue on in the service to my princess and prince." 

Alfred!

He was alive! If dirtier than Dick had ever seen, a thin line of blood marred his cheek just below his eye, and his right arm was in a sling. Though he held himself just as proudly as ever, as he knelt before the throne. 

He had left to attend Bruce during the battle. Never far from his side. Alfred was tougher than most people thought, and fearless. If he was standing there now it could only mean one thing. That Bruce had ordered him to live and return. Nothing short of that would have stopped him from fighting for Bruce until the death. 

Slade hummed in thought, breathing deeply to take in Alfred's scent. He was a beta, and old. By all accounts less of a threat than Damian. Or so Slade must have thought. 

With a quick glance at Dick and Damian, who took great care to school their faces, Slade waved him forward and gave him leave to take up his post as butler once more. 

The words washed useless over Dick. He was too stunned to care for empty pleasantries. 

Alfred was alive, another part of his family that Dick got to hold onto. 

Alfred was alive, and suddenly the room, and their futures, was a little less dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! and welcome back...so soon...I know, I know. I'm shocked myself!
> 
> Probably don't get used to it too much
> 
> So, I thought of this yesterday after posting. A whole year of the first scene talking to me and nothing beyond that and after posting I suddenly have ideas for at least two more chapters after this. 
> 
> Go figure
> 
> So I have a whole backstory and seperate part for Jason...I'm kinda loving the idea I have for him.   
> the only thing is, I'm not sure I want it to happen in this story. 
> 
> So before this goes any further.   
> Before it might possibly earn an explicit rating. I ask you, dear, lovely, and wonderful readers. Do you want a happy story, or a sad one?
> 
> Happy you get Jason. (In an almost Robin Hoob persona)
> 
> Sad, Slade wins all. 
> 
> You will most likely get Jason at some point, just...not in this story. 
> 
> (I can do a mix of both too...it would probably be a mix of both if you wanted a happy ending) 
> 
> So, let me know!!   
> I hope you enjoyed this completely unexpected chapter!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think!


End file.
